Riptide - By Lindsey Scheibe Page 0,74

and make sure I wasn’t watching someone else.” He reaches out and holds my hands in his. “You didn’t hold back.”

Shivers run through me. “You came.”

Ford stares me right in the eyes and says, “Yeah, I did.” His eyes say so much more than his mouth.

Guilt—for all our stupid arguments, for holding out on him all summer, for acting dumb—hits me like a truck. It was super messed up. Like me. I swallow my fear and hope he’ll give me a second chance. “I’m really sorry about everything,” I whisper. “When I bunked that first wave, it was heavy. Everything hit me. And I realized how big I’ve screwed up.”

He drops my hands and nods a few times, taking in my apology. “Dang straight. So?”

I scrunch my face. “So, what?”

“So are we friends?””

I smile. “Best.” Then I can’t stop myself from asking, “What about Brianna?”

His face turns red and he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not going to work out. She deserves more. I called her on the way up here.” Then he hums and works his mouth like talking is a struggle. “Um. What about you and Damien? Are you two together?”

A slow smile spreads across my face. I shake my head no. He grins and steps toward me.

I spring forward on tiptoe and give him a kiss. Not a tongue-down-the-throat kind of kiss, but a soft one, a lips-melting-into-each-other-making-me-swoon kiss.

He pulls back and says, “So you don’t like me, huh?”

I push at him, playfully.

He pulls me closer to him and I hug him fiercely, trying to keep it together. All my pent-up emotions from today are busting at the seams. Having Ford here with me makes me feel invincible—like I can face anything. Even home.

We pull back and hold hands and then we notice people staring. A lot of people. I’ll bet money my whole face is bright red from embarrassment. Kahuna Pete walks over and says, “I don’t mean to break this clam bake up, but they’ve called your name on the speaker system twice now. One more go and they may decide Ann should win.”

<

thirty-two

all in: if a poker player goes all in,

he’s betting all the chips he

has left toward the pot

Well, shit. I fly down 101, excited about Grace’s victory. She rocked it. And I’m caught up in this new Grace—the one who goes full force, no holding back. Our kiss was an emotional high. While I want to keep my head in the clouds because I’m stoked about finally kissing her, the reality of us being together is sinking in. Her dad’s going to kill my career. So I can’t officially date her. Not now. There’s got to be some way to keep our relationship under wraps. Surely she’ll understand about going for your dreams.

But in any case, we’re finally together. A couple. Although I can’t shout it from the rooftops. Or brag to the guys at the beach, or at poker night at Hop’s. To the coffee girl at Lola’s. To Teresa. Hop. And then Brianna’s face hits me and a slight pang makes me sicker. She’s an awesome girl. Smart. Hot. And super cool. I hate that I might have hurt her.

Nope, no sharing this good news. In fact, it doesn’t even feel good, really. What was I thinking? Too much like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.

I shake it off. Try to focus on the positive. Grace winning. I’m so proud of her. She pulled a freaking 360.

Maybe Mr. Parker is all bark and no bite. Maybe he’ll come to his senses about Grace surfing at UCSD and dating a local. Grace was nervous about going home since she skipped out on some brunch. But surely when her parents, especially Mr. Parker, find out she won, they’ll be proud. They’ll finally get that when it comes to surfing, she’s all in.

I blast down 101, the sick feeling taking over. I didn’t imagine it like this. I always thought I’d feel like I had the world in the palm of my hands—because finally, when it comes to me, Grace is all in.

But all I can think is Shit, there goes my future.

thirty-three

I want freedom for the full

expression of my personality.

—Mahatma Gandhi

On the drive home, three things keep running through my mind: The dream conversation I had with the UCSD surf coach, who encouraged me to go to tryouts before fall semester and said he’d make sure to let the admissions people know to look out for my application. The kiss Ford